


Little Talks

by neurotrophicfactors



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Following non-graphic sexual intimacy, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Spoilers for episode 78, hence the rating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-09
Updated: 2016-12-09
Packaged: 2018-09-07 13:02:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8801833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neurotrophicfactors/pseuds/neurotrophicfactors
Summary: Memories hurt less when you simply let them be memories. A snapshot of Percy and Vex'ahlia, afterward.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is the fluffiest thing I have written in my entire life. Dear god, I gave myself diabetes. Title taken from the song by Of Monsters and Men.

They do not talk about dragons.

At first there is little drinking; mostly laughter and frantic passion, hands shaking with anticipation and bodies in motion. They are impatient and they do not wait. They have waited long enough.

Afterward, they lay together in the curl of each other’s arms, trading words and bottles of liquor between them. They are not so foolish to believe that they will finish any of the bottles – not when they need to be in fighting form by the following eve – but they taste from each one and pick their favourites, drinking until they develop a comfortable buzz and the alcohol warms them where their sweat cools. Vex’ahlia chooses the Green Tear whiskey, to Percival’s complete lack of surprise, and Percy chooses Courage, much to Vex’s lack of surprise. They both trail off with the Snow Mead, passing it back and forth as they talk, heads close together.

“And then,” Vex’ahlia tells him, “he comes out of his room, bare-ass naked, and he spreads his arms out and says, ‘Will this do, Father?’”

Percy laughs, a loud bark at first before he reigns in the volume of his voice, all too aware of the lateness of the hour. Grinning, he says, “You know, that doesn’t surprise me at all. You and your brother do have an odd proclivity for public nudity, or at the very least a lack of modesty. Your brother, a bit less so, but still.”

Vex tips her head forward until their noses brush and she’s meeting his eyes from beneath her lashes. “And that has worked out entirely in your favour, hasn’t it, darling?”

His arm tightens around her unthinkingly and he closes the short distance between them to press a brief kiss to her mouth, a small rush running through him at the thought that he is permitted this easy intimacy. “It has,” he replies, unashamed. Vex smiles in return. “It reminds me a little of my younger brother, Oliver. Not the nudity, but being a shit.”

The corner of Vex’s mouth curls with amusement. “Your brother was a shit?”

“We were rich, entitled children with entirely too much time on our hands; we were _all_ shits.”

“But his shittiness stands out in particular?”

With utmost dignity, Percy declares, “I never thought that I would meet a shittier human being in my life until I met your brother, and he’s only half.”

The best way to describe the sound that comes out of Vex’ahlia’s mouth is a _cackle_. “What about Scanlan?”

“He’s a gnome, so he doesn’t count.”

“I’m telling him you said that.”

“You will be telling _no one_ of this conversation.”

“That’s true.” The way her eyes glitter with mischievous glee makes him want to press her into the mattress and kiss her until he can no longer breathe, but the notion is so disgustingly sentimental that he dismisses it immediately. Instead he brushes a few stray strands of hair from her cheek, fingertips lingering at her jaw momentarily before he drops his hand back to where it rests comfortably on her waist. Vex takes a sip of the Snow Mead, still pinning him with that amber gaze, and when the bottle leaves her lips she says, “Tell me about your shitty brother.”

And so he does. He tells her about Oliver’s prank war with Whitney and Ludwig, and how he tried to drag the rest of the siblings into it. He tells her about Vesper’s hatred of spiders and how Cassandra attempted to make a pet out of a dead pigeon. And in return, Vex tells him about her mother and how she was strict in all of the right ways while being lax about everything else; expecting chores to be done, but also fully prepared for the twins to return from the outdoors covered in mud – an expectation that was not shared by their father. To both their surprise, it does not hurt to speak of their loved ones in this bubble they’ve created. They are merely memories shared in the twilight of the bedroom.  

They talk until their tongues grow weary and their eyelids are drooping, and then they cap the bottles and douse the lanterns before returning to the bed and each other, this time huddling beneath the covers. They press close and share a long, slow kiss before Vex’ahlia sighs happily against Percy’s lips.

“I’m glad you’re here, Percy,” she tells him, and he knows that she refers to more than his presence in her bed at this moment.

He gives in to sentimentality and closes his eyes as he presses their foreheads together, rubbing the tip of his nose against hers. He feels the warmth of every point of contact between them and the steady thrum of his heart in his chest, answering the beat of hers.

He tells her, “Me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> I imagine the dead pigeon incident occurred when Cassandra was 3-5 years old. Kids are hilariously morbid at that age because they don't really get the concept of death yet. I'll admit, this bit was also partially inspired by a certain Monty Python skit.


End file.
